


A Night In

by gloss



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Old Marrieds, food and sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: At home with Baze and Chirrut: eat, bicker, screw, cuddle.
Relationships: Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	A Night In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



_"Be, however fleetingly, one with the Force.  
Sometimes it was as effortless as breathing. Sometimes it was as hard as living."_ — Rucka, _Guardians of the Whills_

Their room was the smallest in the complex. In the last round of mortar fire, the building lost a third of the rear external wall, including the staircase. Their room, then, was presently accessible via a maze of ladders and even a short rope bridge. They still had four walls and most of the roof, as Chirrut had observed immediately, so there wasn't much to complain about.

Even if they were getting on and those ladders did a number on stiff knees and aching shoulders, there were far worse situations. This room was home, carpets three-deep in layers on the floor and two walls and bedrolls neatly packed up every morning. The caf cooker tall next to Chirrut's squat, many-times-welded tea things. A wardrobe taller than Chirrut whose door never closed all the way but swung open like an ebullient reveler dead-set on making new friends. Sparse, organized, obsolete-but-still useful: home.

They ate dinner quickly with only a perfunctory argument over the leftovers.

Chirrut held the bowl in front of Maze. "Here. Eat."

"Not hungry." Baze pushed the bowl aside. 

"It's getting cold."

"You eat it, then."

"Already had mine." Chirrut didn't sound in the least bit disturbed by Baze's rudeness. "This is yours."

"Giving it to you."

Chirrut's brows lifted slightly. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Baze said. He watched Chirrut dig into the two extra pepperweed dumplings. He liked watching Chirrut enjoy something; he didn't let himself nearly so often as Baze thought he should. But Chirrut had always had an appetite. Slight as he was, even as a shaven-headed novice he'd been ready to eat whatever you offered him.

When he was finished, Chirrut rose nimbly from his cross-legged position. A fold of the ankles and imperceptible hop found him upright and rinsing their two dishes. Baze hadn't been able to stand up like that in nearly a decade. He valued his bulk, never resented it, yet —. Suffice it to say, he both appreciated and envied Chirrut's enduring grace.

Wiping his hands on the skirt of his robe, Chirrut returned with a flask of black market brandy.

"Do I want to know?" Baze asked, even as he flipped off the cap and took a sip. It burned first, then exploded in a cloud of synth-florals.

"No," Chirrut said and took the flask back. "Probably not."

They made short work of the drink and soon enough the curfew sirens were sounding as tracer lights revolved across the jagged landscape of building roofs. Chirrut's face glowed, just for a moment, in one of those sweeping lights, as he licked a spilled drop from the corner of his mouth.

Memory struck Baze square in the chest and _shook_ him. Their first year as adepts, it must have been, Chirrut licked rainwater from his cheek and Baze was —. Not smitten, he'd always been smitten. He was, however, finally aware of being smitten. 

"You're grinning like a fool," Chirrut murmured, folding up the reusable flask and setting it aside. 

"You don't know that."

"A youngling," Chirrut continued smoothly, "with extra sweets has better composure."

"Composure," Baze said, then paused to clear his throat. "Was never my priority."

Baze settled back on his elbows with a sigh. Propped up against the extra bedroll and a spare coat, he could have been an old king surveying his territory, a renowned scholar assessing his library, a blood-dappled warlord appreciating the spoils. What he took in, however, was his, not by birth or through force, but freely-given devotion.

Settling between Baze's outstretched legs, Chirrut ran his palms up to the fasteners on Baze's trousers, only to find them already open.

"Big dinner," Baze replied to the silent question. 

"Ah, of course." Chirrut took Baze's cock out and stroked it smoothly while Baze lifted his ass and wriggled to get the pants down.

Baze thought he ought to say something else, but he didn't need to. He ran the pad of his thumb along the breadth of Chirrut's lower lip and saw him smile in response.

Chirrut drew his mouth in swirls and loops down the underside of Baze's shaft. When he reached the extra-sensitive spot at the base, he drummed the tip of his tongue there until Baze's hand tightened on his shoulder and he grunted. He rubbed his mouth and chin against balls and hair, inhaling deeply, savoring.

"Îmwe —" Curt as ever, but slightly strangled, too.

Humming happily, he pushed himself forward as he dragged his mouth back up. Baze's fingers closed bruising tight on the knob of his shoulder; when Chirrut took the head between his lips, Baze's hand flexed, twice, then locked back down. Baze was breathing heavily, holding still, and Chirrut knew that he was watching closely, too, with that fierce focus he cast on everything.

But not for long. Chirrut worked Baze's large cock with his whole mouth, a hand, the top of his throat, and it was not long before he drew the first wheezing sighs out of Baze. When they sounded, he plunged his face down, taking as much as he could, going a little farther, and redoubled his pace. He smiled — _beamed_ , really - but his lips were stretched, his mouth too full, for that to be visible. Baze shuddered several times. His hand cupped Chirrut's skull, then his cheek, and he tilted Chirrut's head back as he came. Sentimental old man liked to lock his eyes on his lover at the height of his pleasure.

"Maybe I just want to make sure you're not up to no good," he'd retorted once when Chirrut teased him about this. He wasn't all that exercised; food and sex always made Baze thick-voiced and languorous. Silly, even. 

"Oh, I'm up to lots of things down there," Chirrut had replied and Baze's laughter rumbled like thunder past the horizon.

This night, Baze merely hauled Chirrut up the length of his body and held him there. Their heartbeats gradually slowed, then matched.

"Guess that's it for dessert?" Baze asked and Chirrut laughed much more heartily than the joke deserved.


End file.
